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Werewolf Porn; Porn for Werewolves

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“CORA!” Stiles yelled, barreling into their apartment. “CORA THEODOSIA ISABELLINA VALENTINA HALE!”

Cora called back without getting up from the couch, “Not a single one of those was right, what the fuck, Stiles. You know my middle name.”

“Don’t distract me, you are in enormous trouble!”

Cora finally glanced away from the TV to see Stiles standing at the end of the couch, hands on his hips and glaring down at her.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me your family owns a porn mag!” Stiles said indignantly.

“Oh, is that all this is about?” Cora rolled her eyes and went back to the TV.

‘Oh, is that all?’ she says!” Stiles gestured wildly to the otherwise empty room.

Cora sighed aggrievedly and paused her show.

“Oh my God, go ahead and get it out of your system. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Absolutely everything,” Stiles said delightedly, hurrying to sit at the end of the couch. “Do they put makeup on people’s junk? Have you ever been on set while people fucked? Have you ever been in the magazine? Oh my God, are you a secret porn star??”

Flopping onto her back to kick her legs into Stiles’ lap, she ticked the answers off on her fingers.

“One- makeup on a dick is probably the quickest path to a weird infection, Two- people don’t actually fuck for the magazine, Three- so obviously I’ve never been on set while people fucked for the magazine, but I’ve been a photography assistant for shoots during the summer sometimes, and Four- if I were a porn star, why in God’s name would I be sharing this shitty apartment with you?”

“Shut up, you love my company and our whole poor college student aesthetic,” Stiles said flippantly. “But what do you mean people don’t fuck for the magazine?” he continued impatiently. “Is it, or is it not porn?”

Cora groaned and rolled off the couch, landing on her hands and knees before getting up and going to her room. She reappeared with a magazine that she flung at Stiles before collapsing back on the couch.

“Neckz N Throats is porn for werewolves, so it’s not exactly what you probably think of as porn.”

Stiles was weirdly affronted.

“Hey, I get into some kinky stuff!”

Cora looked at him dryly.

“I’m absolutely one hundred percent sure you do, but unless you get furry and feisty once a month, you’ve probably never deliberately sought this out for a quick jerk.”

Stiles opened the magazine, expecting porn, but it was just… throats. And neckz. Well- throats, necks, torsos, and hands. The photography was really astonishingly beautiful; some poses were solo, others clearly intended to indicate intimacy between partners. He continued flipping through, taking note of the composition and lighting more than anything else.

“Mmm, that one’s a favorite.” Cora said peering over his shoulder at a woman’s jaw line extending from her throat, wisps of hair brushing the skin. “I dated her for a while before she moved to the east coast.”

“Yeah, she’s beau- holy shit, am I holding your jerk off material??” Stiles looked ready to chuck the magazine across the room.

Cora rolled her eyes. “No, I have a few copies of that one.” She shrugged. “Like I said, I dated the model.”

Stiles was already nose deep back in the magazine as soon as he heard “No.” The further back he went, the less innocent the pictures were. There was still nothing overt, nothing that he would have pointed to in other circumstances and said “That is a PORNOGRAPHIC IMAGE.”

But he began seeing love bites and slight bruises here and there.

“Most of those are painted on,” Cora supplied. “Not all, sometimes in partner shots people get… carried away. But most of them are makeup.”

Even further there were pictures of fangs extended against throats and claws pressing into ribs. Possessive poses.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah,” Cora agreed dreamily before shaking her head. “We don’t do shoots like that one very often. It requires extra waivers and shit that most models don’t want to bother with. Sometimes we get someone willing to do it for the money, though.”

“Yeah? Stiles said absently. “How much do they make?”

“On a normal shoot it’s about six hundred dollars for an afternoon, for one of these it’s closer to fifteen or twenty hundred. Long term contracts make even more.”

Stiles’ brain screeched to a halt.

“Two thousand? For an afternoon?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Cora. Cora Hale. Can I please be in your family’s porn mag? Please?? Look at this neck, look at it. It’s perfectly photographable. I would let literally any werewolf put their teeth up on this- well, maybe not any- any, but any contracted working model in a safe studio environment. Please. Cora. Please. Two thousand. Oh my God, I could get Roscoe fixed, Cora!”

Cora looked him up and down, and sighed.

Roscoe had died a sad, pathetic, and entirely predictable death last week. It was currently sitting in a little Jeep heap in their apartment’s single parking space. To be honest, Cora had been considering asking her mom to lend him money anyway. But if he wanted to do this...

 

To: Uncle Peter 4:36 p.m.
You know the guy on my insta who you thirst followed?

To: Cora the Explorer 4:36 p.m.
Your roommate Stiles? The one with the moles I want to lick?

To: Uncle Peter 4:37 p.m.
That’s exactly the kind of thing you can’t say to him when he comes in for a test shoot this Saturday.

To: Cora the Explorer 4:37 p.m.
For the magazine? Cora, I didn’t realize you loved me so much! What did I do to earn such a gift?

To: Uncle Peter 4:39 p.m.
Talk to mom about it, don’t be late to the studio, and try not to come in your pants as soon as you see him.

To: Cora the Explorer 4:39 p.m.
My pants will be fine. I’ll make no guarantees about his.

 

Cora rolled her eyes and put her phone down.

“My Uncle Peter is gonna do a test shoot with you this weekend. Whatever you have planned for Saturday, cancel it.”

Stiles scoffed. “As if I would have pla- wait, Peter? Peter’s the photographer? Instagram Peter?”

“Yeah,” Cora said, eyebrow raised. “Is that a problem?”

Stiles sat there with his mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. “Well… I guess if I’m supposed to look turned on, it’ll be the opposite of a problem.”

“Oh my God.” Cora threw her hands up in the air, and made plans to be literally anywhere other than the studio during the shoot.


 

When Stiles showed up, the Neckz N Throats building was pretty empty. Cora led him straight up to the offices where her mom met them in jeans and a t-shirt, completely at odds with the professional setting.

“We don’t normally do this on the weekends,” Talia explained, “but I understand it would be hard for a student to make a weekday commitment.” She was eyeing Stiles speculatively as she talked.

“Cora said you’d be willing to do a partner shoot. If today goes well, I’ll be calling you back for one immediately.” She looked over at Cora with a grim look on her face. “Tyler backed out of his contract. Said he’s been re-baptized, and his born-again status won’t allow him to work with werewolves anymore.”

Cora gave a disgusted frown.

“Ugh. What an ass.”

“Yeah, he was an ass, but he also had a great one that was going to sell magazines,” Talia said pragmatically before turning back to Stiles. “Anyway, the point is that if this works out- if your pictures turn out and you don’t find the work offensive, then you pretty much have a guaranteed contract with us.”

Stiles was nearly vibrating out of his skin with excitement, but he tried to act cool. Talia’s amused glance told him he wasn’t terribly successful.

“Cora, you can take him down to the studio now. I need to go get groceries, and another gallon of paint for the for home office…” Stiles thought her mind had clearly already left the building, but just before they parted ways at the stairs, she called after them.

“And don’t let Peter talk you into anything you don’t want to do! He’s an incredible photographer and absolutely the most manipulative man alive, but if you give him a firm ‘no,’ he always listens.” And then she disappeared.

Stiles was pretty sure “no” would not be featuring in his vocabulary for the day.

Cora led him back down to the bottom floor and carelessly flung open a set of double doors, yelling out, “PETER! Stiles is here!”

Stiles looked around cautiously, seeing the brightly lit backdrop with camera equipment scattered here and there. He took a step closer, curious, only to jump about a foot in the air when a flash went off directly to the right of him.

Peter’s smirking face, which Stiles had only seen on his phone, appeared from behind a camera.

“I just couldn’t resist,” he said smoothly. “I’ve never seen such an eminently photographable face.” His eyes trailed down Stiles’ body. “Forgive me- eminently photographable everything.”

Cora rolled her eyes as loudly as possible while sighing with all her might. Peter turned his attention to her.

“Cora!” He genuinely sounded delighted. “My favorite niece, how are you darling?”

“I’ll be fine as long as I don’t have to stay and watch you two awkwardly seduce each other. Do you need lighting assistance? Say no.”

Peter waved her off.

“No you don’t need to stay. Unless Stiles wants you to stay, of course.” He raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

Stiles took a long look at Peter and considered what Talia had said.

“Nah, you can go Cora. We’ll be fine here.”

Peter looked pleased, and Cora rolled her eyes. She pointed accusingly at him.

“Don’t fuck this up. Mom said Tyler quit, so if this works out you’ll be working together a lot.”

“Ugh, Tyler,” Peter scoffed. “The limp fish of models. He’s no loss.” He looked over at Stiles, eyes gleaming. “I’m sure Stiles will be much more fun to work with.”

Stiles swallowed loudly, mouth dry. Cora turned to him.

“Look, just- you’re not obligated to fuck him.”

“Okay,” Stiles said faintly, not looking away from Peter’s broad shoulders as they lifted up the camera to snap another picture.

“I mean it Stiles. As long as you photograph well, you have the job,” Cora said seriously.

Stiles finally tore his eyes away from Peter. “Okay. Thanks Cora.” He bit his lip, and then pressed forward with his question, knowing that Peter would hear it regardless of where or how quietly he asked it. “I can still get the job even if we do fuck though, right?”

Cora screwed up her face and started walking out backwards. “God, you two are perfect for each other.” She pointed accusingly at Peter. “If I smell jizz anywhere but your office, I’m telling mom you fucked in the studio.”

“It’s my studio,” Peter said, affronted. “I’m not going to get semen on my cameras!”

“Is this how modeling usually goes?” Stiles wondered out loud.

“Yes,” Peter said at the same time Cora said “No.”

“Goodbye Cora!” Peter said pointedly. Cora flipped him off before finally turning around and going out the doors.

There was a moment of silence after her exit before Peter clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

“Shall we?”


 

Peter eyed the simple powder blue Oxford shirt that Stiles was wearing.

“You need to button up.”

“Button up?”

“Yes, all but the very top. We’ll do stages, going down one at a time, and then end with the shirt hanging off your arms.” He walked around Stiles with a professional eye. “Possibly in a way that makes your arms look bound behind you.”

Stiles swallowed loudly as his heart beat faster. “Okay.”

Peter hid his smirk behind his camera, and filed away that information for later.

Once Stiles had his buttons done all the way up, he stood there in front of the plain white backdrop, stiff as a board. Not in the fun way.

The lights were hot and alarmingly bright, and it suddenly hit him that he was modeling. What had he been thinking? Who was going to want to pay to look at-

“I know you’re brand new to this kind of job, so let me tell you a few things,” Peter said, interrupting Stiles’ thoughts. “Usually the photographer will give you a kind of storyline to tell with your poses, along with a broad idea of how they want you positioned.”

“For instance,” he continued, “I want you with your hands in your pockets for now, facing forward. Our storyline is that you are the incredibly delicious roommate of my niece, whom I’ve lured here under false pretenses so that I can have my wicked way with you. You don’t know that yet though.”

Stiles’ laugh still held a nervous tinge, but he crossed his arms over his chest and looked attentively at Peter.

“So I’m the innocent young man, and you’re the lecherous old villain,” Stiles said. “How are you going to seduce me?”

“Well, first I intend to woo you with my knowledge of the business. I’m an industry legend, you see-”

Stiles snorted.

“-so I’ll share my secret tips for how to be successful and admired by everyone,” Peter continued, bringing up the camera to snap a few pictures. “You’ll be ever so grateful for the inside information.”

“I see,” Stiles said with a grin. “What happens after that?”

“We spend more time together, get a little more comfortable. You undo one button, maybe uncross your arms to show me how receptive you are.”

Stiles reached up and undid one button, placing his hands on his hips instead of returning them to their original position. Peter kept his distance, snapping a few more pictures.

“I’d have a long term plan. Eventually I’d take you to dinners. Networking dinners, of course, where everyone will be amazed that I’ve found such beautiful young talent. They’ll try to lure you away from me, but you’d be loyal by then, and willing to share just a little more of yourself.” He indicated another button.

Stiles reached up and undid another, this time letting his hand linger. Peter took a step closer, hooking a stool with his foot to step up for a different angle.

“I must be feeling very close to you at this point,” Stiles said, glancing up through his eyelashes, thoroughly enjoying the story they were building together.

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter purred as he took photo after photo. “You would begin to share things about yourself. Like your life threatening allergy to lemongrass, and the girl that broke your heart in tenth grade by offering you Jamba Juice with a lemongrass shot-”

Stiles threw back his head to laugh, and heard Peter snap another burst of pictures. “Was the girl in this story attempting to murder me all the way back in tenth grade?”

“Yes, she was very precocious for homicidal tendencies.”

Stiles shrugged, reaching up to undo another button without being prompted this time. “Maybe I deserved it. Oh, or maybe she was carrying out a hit that someone else put on me. Maybe in this story we’re photographing, you think you’re seducing the innocent young roommate but I’m actually a spy from a competing business, sent to sleep with you until I learn information that will cut you out of the industry.”

Peter grinned, delighted, and moved closer.

“Oh, but just imagine the betrayal I’ll feel when I discover your plot.” He stepped off his stool and got closer, camera lens lingering at the dip in Stiles’ clavicle. “I would plan my revenge by making you fall in love with me and then breaking your heart.”

Peter reached out a hand with a raised eyebrow, and Stiles nodded, heart beating faster but allowing him to slip another button.

“How would you get a spy to fall in love, though? Isn’t the spy already a fabrication, a lie built specifically to appeal to you?”

“I’d do my research,” Peter said lowly, moving around to the side to capture the contrast of the dark moles on his pale skin. “But every revenge comes at a price. The more I’d learn about the real you, the more I’d respect you, admire you, adore you.”

He moved behind Stiles, so close that Stiles could feel warm breath on his neck.

“My revenge would fall apart when I realized I couldn’t hurt such a wonderful, beautiful man.”

The camera hung from Peter’s neck when his arms reached around Stiles, slowly undoing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt down his arms ‘til he reached the wrists. Stiles shivered as Peter tangled the shirt just enough to hold his hands behind his back, heat radiating between them.

Peter stepped around, trailing his fingers along smooth skin, and Stiles witnessed his eyes flash red ever so briefly.

“Perfect.”

Stiles’ pupils were blown and he knew he was breathing significantly harder than the situation called for. Peter pulled his camera back up to his face, but continued talking, voice low.

“It would all fall apart one night as we lay in bed together, naked except for the lies. You’d offer a secret, one that I knew was from your real life and not the facsimile you’d built as a spy. And I would dissolve, telling you everything. What I’d discovered, the plan I’d made, and how I’d never be able to carry it out.”

“And I would tell you that I couldn’t continue the job I’d been hired for,” Stiles said distantly, feeling the tension of his bound arms. “That I want to get out of the game altogether.”

Peter moved around to the back again, photographing Stiles’ strained shoulder blades and slightly bowed neck. A moment later the clicking ceased, but Peter didn’t come back into his line of sight.

Stiles nearly startled when Peter’s voice whispered behind his ear, “I’d sell my company that night, and we’d disappear together. New names, new identities.” Peter drew his fingers down Stiles’ arms, gripping the wrists together as he pulled the tangled shirt all the way off. “We’d be free of everything but each other.”

Peter was so close, Stiles could feel the rough denim of his jeans with the hands Peter held immobile. He curled his fingers, brushing over his fly and the hardness underneath, and Peter sucked in a sharp breath.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Are we done photographing the story?”

“Yes sweetheart.”

“Will you fuck me now?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Peter growled out, releasing his wrists and depositing the camera on the floor before sweeping Stiles up into his arms and carrying him out.


 

Once they were inside his office, Peter sat down on the couch, placing Stiles in his lap and in a position of control.

Which Stiles immediately took advantage of by kissing the hell out of Peter.

Peter’s mouth was hot and slick, with just the right amount of scratchy scruff surrounding it to heighten every sensation. Stiles dragged his tongue across Peter’s bottom lip and dove inside with a little moan.

“Wait, wait-” Peter said against his mouth. Stiles immediately pulled back, concerned. Peter ran a hand over his face, clearly bracing himself.

“I just want to be sure you’re not doing this for a job,” he said sincerely. “Those pictures- I can already tell you’re going to be a hit with our readers, Stiles. You have a contract regardless of whether or not you want-”

Stiles honestly felt so loved and cared for by this family. This wonderful, wonderful, porn industry family. But he’d had it with everyone triple checking his motivations.

Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand and pushed it against the fly of his jeans. “Does it feel like I don’t want?” Stiles asked. “I want. I want today, and to be honest I’m probably going to want tomorrow, and on Monday too if that works for you.”

Peter dove back in without hesitation, capturing Stiles’ lips and seeking entrance for his own tongue this time. One of his hands rested on the bare skin between Stiles’ shoulder blades and the other on his lower back, pulling him closer.

Stiles whined in the back of his throat, rocking his hips forward into Peter, who growled in return. A dizzying moment later Stiles found his back on the couch, Peter’s hips rolling down into him as he attacked his throat.

Blunt teeth nipped and lightly sucked from the corner of his jaw down to the side of his neck, where Peter gave a hard love bite and laved his tongue over the skin. Stiles moaned loudly, tipping his head to the side to expose himself more.

Encouraged, Peter continued to bite and draw bruises up, leaving a line of purple from the side of his throat down to the curve of his shoulder, stopping at the clavicle. The longer he worked at it, the more frantic Stiles’ hips moved, grinding with desperation. Peter reached down to encourage the movement, one hand supporting his weight while the other gripped Stiles’ ass to pull it forward.

“I- shit- ” Stiles moaned again when Peter squeezed his ass harder. “I want you to fuck me. God, please fuck me. I have- ah!- lube in my wallet.”

Eager to comply, Peter let up on his possession of Stiles’ ass for long enough to reach into the pocket and pull out the wallet. He had to sit up at that point, still straddling Stiles’ legs but giving more space than he had since the middle of the photoshoot.

Stiles immediately unzipped his pants and started trying to shimmy them down without getting off the couch. Peter pulled out the packet of lube and dropped it on Stiles’ stomach before standing up to finish pulling his pants off for him and then yank off his own.

Stiles’ mouth dropped open the second Peter took off his pants, shirt following shortly.

“Do you model?” Stiles blurted before shaking his head. “No, don’t answer that, we don’t have time. I need your cock in me thirty minutes ago.”

Peter looked down at him amused. “I don’t have any other appointments today, Stiles. We have all the time we need.”

“No no,” Stiles said, a slightly manic edge to his words. “We can have all the time in the world after that dick is in my ass.”

He licked his lips and noticed Peter tracing the motion with his eyes. Having all that focus and attention on him during the photoshoot had been incredible, but now? It was an aphrodisiac like he’d never experienced.

“Peter,” he said firmly, standing up from the couch  and bringing his body within an inch of Peter’s. “You can make me beg, cry, and scream for the rest of the afternoon- just as long as your cock is in me in the next five minutes and your come is dripping out of my ass by the end of it.”

Eyes flashing with a growl, Peter grabbed Stiles and pushed him face first against a wall before dropping to his knees behind him.

The hot tongue on his hole surprised a yelp out of Stiles that quickly turned into a moan. He pushed his ass back- or tried to before Peter gripped his hips firmly, holding him in place. Peter laved his tongue across just a few times before diving inside, licking around the rim and then into the hot, soft skin beneath it. Stiles’ breath hitched as he tried to keep his legs from turning into jelly.

Before long Peter pulled back just enough to introduce a lubed finger, and then two. It didn’t take much; the rimjob relaxed Stiles enough to make him a loose, desperate mess.

Soon, Peter was standing up and flipping Stiles around to face him, taking in his glassy eyes and hungry look with pleasure.

Peter picked him up under the thighs, encouraging him to wrap his legs above his hips. As soon as Stiles’ thighs were secured around him, Peter slid his hands back to Stiles’ ass cheeks to grip him there, and spread them apart.

Slowly, he lowered Stiles onto his cock; tight, clinging heat swallowing him up inch by inch.

Stiles threw back his head, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as he felt Peter break him apart, only to fill the void with hard, unyielding pleasure.

Once he was fully seated, they both took a moment, breathing together, before Peter leaned him slightly back against the wall and brought one hand up to Stiles’ neck to tip his head forward.

Stiles saw the caution on his face, knew he was checking in with Stiles. He dipped his face down to kiss him deeply, moaning into his mouth, and then leaned to whisper in his ear, “Fuck me.”

Peter pulled him up with a growl before dropping him back down onto his cock, punching the air out of Stiles. He immediately repeated the motion, this time thrusting his hips up too for good measure.

Stiles was pretty sure he could see stars around his head. He’d never had someone fuck him so deeply, buried so completely inside of him. Peter was pushing him up against the wall now, hips snapping forward as he continued pulling Stiles down onto his cock.

Stiles’ dick lay between their bellies, getting just enough friction to wind him higher and higher. Peter continued fucking into him, cock rubbing up against Stiles’ sensitive walls as he clenched down.

Peter groaned with abandon and tucked his face into the curve of Stiles’ neck, sucking on the already tender skin. Stiles’ fingernails dug into his shoulders, trying to keep himself from coming when Peter’s teeth scraped over the bruises he’d put there earlier.

“God, Stiles,” Peter rumbled out against his neck, and Stiles’ grip tightened further at the sound of Peter saying his name so fervently.

Peter’s hands, now covered in sweat and lube, slipped inward a little, bringing his fingers closer to where he was shoving in and out of Stiles’ body. He deliberately brought one pointer finger to feel around the rim stretched around him.

Stiles gasped at the sensation, squeezing his legs tighter. Peter growled at the response, and, continuing his thrusting, eased the finger in alongside his cock.

The pressure made him feel impossibly full, and Stiles came with a shout.

Peter fucked him through it, picking up his pace to a frantic beat until Stiles slurred in his ear, nipping at his lobe, “Fill me, Peter. I wanna be so full of your come it’s still dripping out of me in class. Mark me .”

And suddenly he was pumping his come into Stiles, gripping him so tightly there were bound to be bruises.

Before his legs could give out on him, Peter stumbled to the couch, collapsing back on it while still inside of Stiles as he straddled his lap.

Stiles was nuzzling the side of his face as Peter raised one tired arm to rub up and down his back. Eventually he softened enough to slip out of Stiles, his come trickling after him. One of Peter’s fingers wandered down to slip back inside, pushing some of the come back in, making Stiles moan. When he felt an interested twitch from Stiles, he picked him up and flipped him face first down on the couch, immediately diving into Stiles’ hole to lick up the rest.

It wasn’t long before his tongue and Stiles’ own hand worked him to a second orgasm, less intense than the first, but leaving him far more jellied.

Peter arranged them chest to chest on the couch with Stiles on top, drifting his fingers up and down his body. They lay quietly, enjoying the afterglow, until Stiles noticed Peter reaching for his phone and opening the camera app.

He didn’t move, allowing Peter to photograph what he could now see were huge purple marks down his neck and across his collarbones.

“For the magazine?” Stiles asked idly, still sleepy.

Peter grinned down at him. “No, I think I’ll be keeping those particular ones for my personal collection.”

Stiles grinned back.


 

Stiles was contracted with Neckz N Throats for four years.

They never once had to use makeup to paint on love bites.